“La fruta. La mía,” whispers a dance on youth and old age; fertility and sterilization; it is sex as the object; a play between sexuality and chastity; a shadow of repression and unfulfilled desire. Its the body that no longer belongs to the female-identified spirit; female genitalia as an object meant for safe-keeping (or denied/punished/discarded); pure and repressed, but at the same time visible enough to create an illusion of desire. In the meantime, it decays in a slow dance as it confronts its inability to capture the eternal youth that is idolized by modern society. The slow sadness and beauty of the passing of time. This is a trapped ballad.